


Oasis

by IreneADonovan



Series: Parts of the Whole [1]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Bottom Erik, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Gay Mutant Road Trip, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Pool Sex, Sex Against a Car., Thunderstorms, sex in the rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-10-29 01:36:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10843782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IreneADonovan/pseuds/IreneADonovan
Summary: During the FC road trip, Erik and Charles pull over to wait out a thunderstorm and wind up having sex in the rain...





	1. Storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fullmetalcarer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fullmetalcarer/gifts).



> While this is a part of my series of odes to Charles' body parts, it does not fit in the same timeframe as the previous two, though it could still be in the same universe.
> 
> This one is for Fullmetalcarer, who asked for an ode to Charles' thighs...

Erik stared at the wall of black clouds sweeping northward toward them. A thunderstorm. In the desert. A fucking thunderstorm in the desert.

And he and Charles were stuck in a no-man's-land, twenty miles out of the last small town, another thirty miles west to Tucson, and no hope of reaching either before the storm caught them.

Charles laughed. “Wonderful. I'd heard about the monsoon thunderstorms out here, but I never expected to see one, let alone be in one.”

Erik gripped the wheel tighter. “So glad you're happy about it. You aren't driving.”

Charles sobered. “Maybe we should pull over.”

“Not yet,” Erik said mulishly.

They drove on for a few more miles. The leading edge of the storm reached them, more wind than rain, whipping up clouds of dust that blurred the landscape.

Another mile and the rain found them, light and uneven, just enough to turn the windshield to a muddy mess.

Two more miles and the rain became a downpour, sheeting rain that reduced visibility to mere feet in front of the car. Reluctantly, Erik pulled to the side of the road.

They sat a while in silence, the car quickly growing hot and stuffy, the windshield frosting with moisture. Charles cracked his window, laughing as the rain splattered in. “Isn't this marvellous,” he said.

Erik was a whole lot less enthusiastic. “It's just a thunderstorm.”

“Actually it's not. The mechanism is fascinating. During May and June, high pressure sits over the middle of Arizona and keeps everything hot and dry, but in July and August, the high pressure moves up to the Four Corners -- where Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado, and Utah meet -- and it funnels moisture up from the Gulf of Mexico--”

“Charles,” Erik said, “shut the fuck up.”

“But--”

“Now, Charles. Or I'll shove you out in it.”

Charles slumped against the door, sulking but silent. He was cute when he pouted.

Actually, he was always cute. Also frustrating, pig-headed, arrogant, and way too talkative. And Erik wanted nothing more than to fuck him senseless.

Not that it would ever happen. Charles only had an eye for the ladies. He flirted shamelessly with every woman that crossed his path, but never with Erik. 

Sure, even if he were so inclined, Charles would have to be circumspect in public. Relations between men were illegal most places, including, he was sure, Arizona.

But they'd been alone together for much of the last two weeks, either in the car or in a series of budget motel rooms. If Charles had been interested, he'd had ample opportunity to act. But no, he wouldn't so much as take his shirt off in front of Erik, let alone make a move on him.

Charles stared pensively out the window. In just the -- Erik checked his watch -- fifteen minutes they'd been sitting on the roadside, the character of the rain had changed. It still came down steadily, but not with drenching fury, the winds had eased, and the lightning no longer illuminated the entire sky.

A soft smile curved Charles' lips, and Erik wanted nothing more than to cover them with his own. That was why he was so startled when Charles popped open his door and dashed out into the storm.

_Idiot. I am not going out after you._ Erik watched as Charles zigzagged through patches of white-blond grasses and stubby cacti and around scrubby bushes.

He was already soaked to the skin, his white button-down revealing a sleek torso. But it was what the clinging fabric of his trousers revealed that took his breath away. A tight, round ass, and muscular thighs that had Erik practically salivating as he imagined them wrapped around his body.

Erik was out of the car before he knew what he was doing. 

The rain was almost cold despite the desert heat, but Erik scarcely felt it, his attention riveted to the vision before him. Charles stood at the foot of a feathery-leafed tree with improbably yellow-green bark. Water droplets clung to the needle-slim leaves, glittering like diamonds in the stormlight. Charles' eyes shone still brighter, flashing sapphire orbs framed by dark lashes that sparkled with more water drops.

Charles laughed, those lush lips spread wide. The chilly water had brought a deep blush to his fair cheeks and deepened the shade of his lips to fiery crimson. “You look like a drowned rat,” he said.

“Have you seen yourself?” Erik asked with more of an edge than he'd intended.

Charles ignored the barb, spreading his arms wide and tilting his face up to meet the rain.

Erik stared at that beautiful face, that beautiful body, until he could take it no more. _Fuck it!_ He marched forward, seized Charles' shoulders, and planted a searing kiss on those sinful lips.

Charles went stiff, and Erik was sure he'd just made a huge mistake, then Charles wrapped his arms around him and kissed him back. His tongue lapped at Erik's lips, and Erik parted them, still dazed and disbelieving.

Charles tasted like rain and salt and something Erik didn't have words for but was simply Charles. Erik knew after the first taste it was something he could never have enough of.

Charles' hands slid lower, gripped his ass hard enough to leave marks. _Want you. Want you now,_ Charles projected the thought while continuing to assault Erik's mouth.

_Okay._

The two of them rushed back toward the car. Or at least as quickly as they could manage while continuing to grope and kiss each other.

Charles backed him up against the car, hands fumbling at the wet fastenings of his jeans.

“Let me.” Erik used his powers to undo the snap and zipper, then did the same to Charles' trousers.

“Impressive.” Charles pushed Erik's jeans and underwear down over his hips and down to mid-thigh. Erik's cock sprang free. Charles grinned down at it. “Even more impressive.” And then he bent and took Erik into his mouth.

Erik threw his head back, arched his back. His hands splayed out on the car's side, his fingertips dimpling the metal. “Oh, fuck, Charles.”

_Fuck Charles? I thought the idea was Fuck Erik,_ Charles teased without ever stopping his oral assault on Erik's cock.

_Uunngh,_ was the closest Erik could manage to a coherent reply. The way Charles' lips wrapped around his cock made it clear calling them sinful was a masterpiece of understatement.

He was perilously close to coming when Charles pulled away. “Not yet,” he declared, patting Erik's cock with one hand.

Erik slumped bonelessly against the car, his whole body aching with the loss of that wet heat.

“Pop the trunk.”

“What?” _Do you want to do it in the trunk?_

Charles chuckled. “Hardly. There's a jar of Vaseline in my suitcase.”

Okay. Erik scanned the trunk, found the jar by its metal top. He popped the latches on the suitcase and the lock on the trunk, floated the little glass jar out by the top, then slammed the trunk lid before anything could get too wet.

Charles snared the jar out of the air. “Turn around.”

Erik did so swiftly, leaning over, bracing his legs against the rear quarter-panel and laying his forearms flat on the trunk lid. The metal remained warm despite the cooling rain, almost too warm against his cock, but nothing could make him move now.

A well-greased finger probed his hole, eased its way inside, began coaxing the tight muscles to relax, the movements slow and gentle at first, then growing more urgent.

Charles added another finger, stretching him in earnest now. His other hand rested lightly on Erik's back, and one muscular thigh pressed against Erik's own leg.

Charles added a third finger, and Erik was sure he would die of sheer needing. And then one finger shivered across his prostate, and Erik ceased being capable of coherent thought.

Charles chuckled. “I daresay you're ready.” The fingers withdrew, and Erik moaned a protest. “Hold on, love. There'll be something even better in there in a minute.”

“Promises, promises,” Erik mumbled, finding his voice again.

Charles set a hand on Erik's hip, holding him in place as Erik felt the blunt head of Charles' cock pressing against his hole. Charles entered him slowly, giving his body time to adjust, but not stopping until he was sheathed balls-deep inside Erik. 

“Are we good?” Charles asked, his voice a little strangled. “Tell me I can move.” Erik could feel the tension in those powerful thighs, the strain of resisting the urge to fuck Erik senseless.

Which was what Erik wanted. “Fuck me senseless, Charles. Make me forget my own name.”

Charles was only too happy to comply. He wrapped one arm around Erik's waist, braced his other hand on the car frame, pulled most of the way out, then drove home.

Charles pounded into Erik, deep, ferocious strokes that left Erik begging for more. Until Charles found his prostate again, at which point Erik was rendered incapable of speech.

Charles proceeded to tattoo a rhythm on Erik's prostate that sent him careering toward the brink of orgasm, helpless and out of control.

Those sturdy thighs pinioned him against the car as Charles hips bucked, driving that magnificent cock into him to the hilt. A few more strokes, and Erik tumbled into the abyss, his orgasm wrenched from him as he shot hot come onto the side of the car. His body convulsed, pulling Charles over the edge with him, the smaller man coming deep inside Erik's ass.

Erik slumped bonelessly against the car, while Charles slumped against him. Neither moved or said anything for long minutes, until Charles lifted his head off Erik's back and asked, “When did the rain stop?”

Erik had no answer.


	2. Pool

They changed out of their wet clothes at the side of the road, using the car to conceal themselves from passing motorists, not that there were any this soon after the storm. They used Erik's wet shirt to clean themselves (and the side of the car); it was an old shirt anyway.

And then they just stared at each other, wondering what the hell to do next. Water still dripped from Charles' hair, tracing damp trails down his neck and down below his collar. Erik longed to lick the water away, but he knew that would lead to another round of sex against the car, which his libido was all in favor of, but he knew they needed to get back on the road.

At this point, they didn't have much hope of reaching Phoenix before nightfall. Maybe their smartest move would be to spend the night in Tucson, get an early start, make the coast by tomorrow night. They had coordinates for three potential recruits in the LA area.

“Are we just going to stand here until we petrify?” Charles asked.

“What do you think about stopping in Tucson?”

“Good a place as any.”

So they found a motel on the approach to Tucson, checked in, went to find food. The desk clerk had recommended a little Mexican place about a block down, and the aromas it exuded were downright intoxicating. It was an unassuming place, of whitewashed adobe with tan brick arches, and it was simply called Molina's.

They walked in, found it nearly empty in the late afternoon. They were shown to a table, then a pretty brunette in a colorful blouse and skirt took their drink order -- a margarita for Charles; a Mexican beer for Erik.

She left them a pair of waters, a bowl of still-warm tortilla chips, and a dish of salsa. Charles scooped some salsa up on a chip and popped it in his mouth. His eyes bugged out and watered then streamed tears, his face flushed six times redder than the salsa, and he choked and spluttered.

“A little hot, is it?” Erik said calmly. He took a more modest portion onto a chip and tasted it. Spicy, but not incendiary. “You're a wimp.”

 _I just have a very sensitive mouth,_ Charles protested, still unable to speak.

 _I can testify to that._ Erik projected the thought, then winked.

Charles spluttered harder.

The waitress returned with their drinks, and Charles took a grateful gulp of his ice-cold cocktail.

He tried to order, coughed a few times, then pointed to his choice -- _enchiladas de la casa,_ the house enchiladas.

Erik asked a couple of questions about the menu, in Spanish. The waitress cocked an eyebrow at his Castilian accent, then answered. He wound up selecting the _carne seca_ platter, smoke-dried beef cooked with salsa and spices.

The food was excellent. He traded a few bites of his beef and beans and rice for a sample of Charles enchiladas, which proved to be chicken ones smothered in a tangy green-chile-and-sour-cream sauce. They were tasty, but he liked his own choice more.

They passed a small liquor store on their walk back to the motel, and Charles ducked in to buy a bottle of mediocre scotch. The sunset, on the other hand, was spectacular, the lingering clouds alight with peach and gold, lavender and pink, coral and fuchsia.

Once back at their room, Erik set up the chessboard while Charles opened the scotch and poured them each a glass. Neither one of them seemed quite prepared to discuss what had happened along that desert roadside. Or ready to act on those feelings again.

They played to a draw, and wasn't that symbolic. Erik refreshed their drinks as Charles reset the board. And then with a sputter and a rapid-fire clanging followed by a burst of acrid smoke, the room air conditioner died.

Charles stared at the defunct device as if he could will it back into operation. “I'll go down to the front desk,” Erik said with a sigh.

The news he received was less than heartening, and he returned to the room to relay it. “They can't fix it before morning, they're full up so we can't get another room, and the likelihood of finding another motel nearby with a vacancy is slim to none.”

“So what do we do?”

“The manager suggested if we get too hot, we take a swim.”

“But isn't the pool closed for the evening?”

“Yes, but he also suggested that two enterprising young men could probably find a way in as long as they were quiet and discreet and didn't damage the lock.”

Charles grinned. “And you'll probably leave it in better shape than you found it.”

“Precisely. Shall we?”

They gathered towels from the bathroom then hurried the ten yards from their door to the pool gate, Charles scanning for other minds to be sure they remained undetected.

Erik opened the lock and they slipped inside, safely obscured by the fence. He locked them in then looked over at Charles, the younger man's eyes sparkling in the bright moonlight, lips a dark crimson just begging to be kissed.

So Erik did, letting the towels (and a certain little jar) fall. Charles seized a double-handful of his shirt, pulling him even closer as their tongues duelled. _You. Naked. Now._ Charles projected.

Erik pulled back from Charles long enough to slide his polo over his head. Charles began unbuttoning his shirt as Erik unfastened his jeans, shoved them and his boxers down to his ankles, stepped out of them and his shoes, then peeled off his socks.

Charles had only gotten as far as pulling his shirttails from his pants.

“You're taking too long,” Erik growled.

Charles grinned again. “Haven't you ever heard of anticipation?” He slid his shirt off one pale shoulder.

“Anticipate this -- if you're not in the pool in the next sixty seconds, I'll push you in, clothes and all.”

Charles yanked his shirt off with gratifying speed, then skinned out of his pants, underwear, and shoes.

“Time's up.” Erik pushed him in then jumped in himself.

Charles came up spluttering. “You said you wouldn't push me in.”

“I said I wouldn't push you in fully clothed. You're only wearing socks.”

Charles laughed. “Get over here, you fool.”

Erik was by his side with two quick strokes. Charles drew him closer, kissed him. They sank beneath the water, continuing the kiss until they ran out of breath, surfaced, laughing and exhilarated, then nibbled at each other's lips.

Charles' eyes danced in the moonlight, alight with fiery desire. “Up against the edge,” he said.

Erik shivered in a way that had nothing to do with the cool water on his heated skin. He swam to the edge, picking a spot where he could plant his feet then after a moment's consideration, he moved to a spot whete Charles could also.

“You still have that jar?” Charles demanded.

Erik stretched out his hand, and the jar flew into it.

Charles took it from his hand. “Turn around,” he ordered.

Erik did so, gripping the pool's edge to brace himself, turned his head to watch Charles over his shoulder.

Charles opened the jar, scooped out a blob of glistening jelly, then set the jar on the concrete within easy reach. He held onto the pool's rim with his left hand, braced his legs against Erik's left leg, then pushed his finger inside Erik's hole.

Erik was still a little sore from earlier, but the burn felt good, pleasure with a frisson of pain. Charles worked him open with gentle patience and just a little roughness. He added a second finger, then a third, until Erik was all but whimpering with raw need. His cock was hard as a steel bar, aching and heavy, pulsating with his every heartbeat, leaking precome into the water. “Please.” His voice was but a hoarse whisper.

“Turn back around,” Charles directed. “I want to see your face.”

Erik complied, braced his shoulders against the side of the pool, spread his arms along the edge. Charles ducked beneath the water to grab his ankles, then he lifted Erik up, Erik's body made light by the water.

Charles had already greased his cock; it glistened even under the water. He pressed against Erik's loosened hole then slowly, maddeningly slowly, he pushed his way inside.

Erik gloried in the sensation of being filled, the full length of Charles' cock buried deep in his ass, held motionless for an eternal moment by those magnificent, powerful thighs.

Thighs that flexed and strained as Charles began to move inside him. Thighs that set a steady rhythm that drove him up against the pool's edge, doubtless leaving a line of bruises along his shoulders. Thighs that pistoned Charles' glorious cock against Erik's prostate until Erik couldn't remember his own name.

He knew he could take no more, that he would surely die, fucked to death in a motel pool in Tucson, Arizona, and that was when Charles seized his cock, stroking it roughly no more than a half-dozen times before Erik came in a shuddering rush. He bit back a cry, unwilling to risk being heard.

His muscles convulsed around Charles' cock, and that was all tbe other man needed, and he came deep in Erik's ass.

Afterward, they curled together on the pool's steps, shutting out the world for a few more precious minutes. A storm was coming, and they stood on its leading edge, unsure of which way the winds would blow them. But blow them it would, Erik knew.

But he also knew he could face anything with Charles at his side.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll still take requests for body parts, though I've got so many fiction commitments that it's going to take me a while to write them...


End file.
